Which One?
by Clarenova
Summary: Mary-Sue thinks that Glorfindel is Legolas, and nothing that he can say will change that. Watch as the denizens of Imladris torment the seneschal into more Balrog-slaying fits while they fight the woes of Mary-Sue and other evils.
1. Mistaken

::Which One?:: 

A/N: I strike back, changing the old Mary Sue. 

A/N2: This is another revision, and a slightly more complicated one. This chapter is still far from comparing to any one of the chapters after it, but it was necessary to illustrate the "Author", seen below. Anything in normal text is meant to be the Author of the Sue writing, and everything that is not is the fic proper. 

- 

_A girlish squeal could be heard in the blackness of space, and then the sound of fingers contacting with a keyboard. Not knowing how much she was tormenting Canon characters, the Author worked her imagination and typed. The blackness changed, and the text became real._

Aragorn, King of Gondor, was worried. Amidst the terrible rise and fall of the Dark Lord Sauron, a new force, terrible, dark and wreathed in shadow, had grown, unnoticed amongst the panic Unknown to all the free people in Middle-Earth until it was far too late. Now, the old lord had fallen, and a queen arose in his place. A new breed of evil, delving into a dangerous and complex mix of magic both old and new, had buried into strength and laid its foundations carefully. Now her power was growing. 

_Aragorn grumbled mentally. He surveyed the narrative thus far and winced._

**_I would appreciate some control over my inner thoughts. My word choice scares myself._**

He had sent out messengers, to Faramir Steward of Gondor, Eomer Horse-lord, Gimli, Legolas, all old friends and great warriors alike to him. If there was any time he needed their loyalty, friendship and counsel, it was now. They all should be arriving in an hour or less now. The opening of the throne room door awoke Aragorn from his thoughts, both fictional and rational. It was Lady Arwen, his wife, whom was followed by Gimli, Faramir, Legolas and Eomer. The king quickly arose to greet his guests. 

**_This sounds oddly familiar, as though I have done this very same thing the past thirty times some female dropped into my land. How coincidental._**

'Ah, welcome, my friends. I am glad that you were all able to make the trip here at my expense.' 

**_I would have stopped it if I could, Legolas. I am sorry for your loss._**

Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood Forest, kept his elven face grim. 

_The Author would have written in a more invigorating description of how fair his face was, how bright his eyes shone so on and so forth, but she was too busy drooling to care. The sheer out-of-character speech evaded her completely._

'Do not banter over petty matters, Aragorn. We all know the situation is dire indeed. What is to be done?' 

Aragorn slumped back into his chair; he knew that the elf could read him like an open book. 

**_Please stop the narrative. Please._**

Amidst the terror and war over the War of the Ring, something else has awoken. Long it has laid in slumber, but now, even after the Dark Lord's fall, it rises once more, and how to get rid of this Shadow is unknown to us. There is no weak point to it that can be found, and tedious yet unfruitful has been the search of our peoples to seek weakness, but still none can be found, and nearer still the threat is coming. 

**_Yes, something so dangerous it nearly comes as close as the danger of the pink nail polish of the Mary Sue we will most surely meet._**

'Setina is a new and darker queen, and most definitely more powerful, dangerous and cunning. Her armies are small, but deadly and experienced, hard to kill, and skilled in war. Worst of all, we do not know how to defeat her. There might be only one option.' 

_Many characters tried to laugh at the name "Setina", but failed since the Author would have damned them before allowing them to ridicule her precious work._

Faramir asked, 'And...?' 

'Earlier on, I made contact with Elrond. What information I attained from him was of a spell, complex and unpredictable. One that would pick, without any help or direction, a single person from the future, and is only used once an age, in a time of desperate measures. The drawbacks are that once that person had come... He cannot leave.' 

**_"He" indeed._******

_Aragorn wished, hoped and prayed that the Author would lose interest in the story. Doing so would leave him his free will, and after the mass amounts of torture he had gone through the King had learnt to appreciate it more than ever._

Gimli burst, his beard bristling. 

_Internally, Gimli wondered how hair that thick could bristle and resigned himself to his fate._

'Strider! What gives up permission to take a person from his time frame, without permit, and not return him?' 

'Gimli, my friend, this spell, it only takes one who is worthy, and feel that he does not fit into his own time frame or society. There are few of such, I admit, but no one living on the face of Middle-Earth knows any other way of how to avoid letting the world as we know it slip into eternal darkness.' 

'One might change one's mind.' 

'Then again one might not. And we have no other choice. If we do not do this, that one person, and many others, might never exist. One for the lives of many, we have no other option.' 

The dwarf fell silent. Eomer spoke up, breaking the icy silence. 

'Where will this spell be performed?' 

'At Rivendell, with the old fellowship, as well as you and Faramir, for Elrond deems that it would be best. I suspect that Eowyn, here he looked at Faramir,  would acknowledge that peace still reigns over Gondor. Faramir simply inclined his head in respect. Eowyn would most probably leap for joy that she would have the chance to go chop up some Orc while he was away. 

_Some rather creative curses found their way through Faramir's mind. He wanted to rock back and forth in agony of the badly written descriptions, the ridiculous dialogue, the pointless plot, so on and so forth._

Legolas spoke. 

'When, and how are we going to get the hobbits?' 

'We will depart today, to the Shire, then to Rivendell.' 

'At such short notice?' 

'We have no choice.' 

**_Only the Author has a choice, and only the Author could write us so terribly._**

- 

Those in Hobbiton would have noticed four riders, dressed in travellers cloaks, one riding a black stallion in the front, followed closely by a white stallion, which was unlike most other horses, which bore an elf and a rather grumpy looking dwarf, a strange sight indeed. Behind both were two riding brown horses, both stallions as well, and all rode swift and fast. 

_**Have we ever encountered horses not "swift and fast" in these stories?** Aragorn wondered whimsically. He looked at the changing scenery about him and noted that it was going past him far faster than was normal. That was probably the Author wanting to get to the interesting bits more quickly._

Suddenly, the front rider reined his horse in, directly in front of Bag End, sending up a dust cloud. Swinging himself off the back of his stallion, he mentioned for the others to do the same. The elf jumped off with light grace, while the dwarf practically fell off, all the time muttering about elves and their agility. The other two disembarked, chuckling slightly under their breath. The front rider knocked on the hobbit's door. A shouted answer was heard. 

'Coming!' 

There were muted footsteps, a lot of shuffling and a short wait. Finally, the door opened. Samwise Gamgee, Mayor of Hobbiton, asked without looking up. 

'Who are you?' 

The stranger, chuckling ever so slightly, removed his hood. 

'Is that any way to greet old friends, Sam, or the King of Gondor?' 

Sam's head shot up in surprise, and what he saw made him jump up and hug the man in front of him, though he was so short, his legs dangled underneath him. 

'Strider!' 

Sam heard an indignant grunt from behind the laughing Aragorn. 

'Just because he is the King of Gondor, you forget the rest of the shrinking fellowship?' 

Sam let go of Aragorn's neck with a delighted squeak, causing Rosie from the doorway to look at him in a disapproving manner. It was no way for a Mayor to act, but she sighed, knowing that the Author held power over all, including her husband and herself. 

'Gimli! Legolas!' 

After many greetings, they finally managed to get at both Pippin and Merry, for they happened to both be at Crickhollow on that certain occasion, both of whom were equally shocked and excited at the sudden appearance of their old friends. However, after a hasty explanation, the expressions turned to that of fear and worry. They all agreed to make the journey to Rivendell, and go on the impossible quest. 

'This is very sudden, Strider. Why did we not hear of this Setina person earlier on?' 

_Aragorn sighed in frustration at their, in more ways than one, odd position. He wanted to sigh again, but the Author refused him._

'We were so occupied with the War of the Ring, that all other happenings simply slipped through our fingers, and now it is too late. Far too late.' 

**_When we are released from this Author's short attention span, I shall be a very happy man._**

- 

In Rivendell, _also known as Imladris, or "that nice place with the cute Elves"._

- 

'Esa Euilend Filurn Gulienm...' 

**_Essa--? Dear Eru, is the author just randomly pressing keys?_**

_Elrond seemed to have amused himself muttering the words, and half of them sounded as though he had made them up himself. Most of it was nothing but muttered gibberish randomized when the Author pounded on her keyboard for lack of other things to do. No one knew what they meant, or if they even had a meaning. That did not seem likely, due to the fact that the Author was most probably a previous patient of some cross-dimensional funny farm._

This went on for some time, a tense silence shared between all in attendance, which included Arwen and Glorfindel. Finally, Elrond muttered the final word of the spell. It was as if four hundred smoke bombs had been thrown into the room at the same time. That is, if Middle-Earth even _had_ smoke bombs at that point in time. The white mist circled around the centre of the room, forming a mushroom cloud, circling round and round, sucking itself into the centre of the room until it disappeared totally. Another dramatic appearance for the other character. 

_Those present tried to rub the smoke out of their eyes, quietly wishing the Author a long, painful death involving needles and live porcupines. Legolas was trying desperately to run away, but the Author still held stronghold over all in presence. Aragon was not the only one who tried to amuse himself with an inner monologue._

**_She comes. Legolas! Flee!_**

_Of course, Legolas could not run._

It was a girl, barely sixteen, dressed in jeans and a casual tee shirt. Ah, the signature tomboy figure was here already. Legolas was definitely going to have a major problem on his hands. She laid sprawled out on the floor, until she regained consciousness, and sat up slowly, shook her head, and got up, not screaming, not looking the least bit shocked, or afraid, as all Mary-Sues must do in accordance to the Book Of Literal Perfection (Artistic License No. 2571, best-seller in more than 56 dimensional portal regions and translated into more than 5472 languages universal wide). Her face showed traces of English, maybe even American, faint though it was, then there was a part that was totally... herself. No other words could describe her. She was _the_ epitome of Mary-Sue, the unrelentingly smart, beautiful and perfect picture that painted the portrait of nightmares. She looked around the room, interested, even slightly amused, not in the least afraid or confused. Finally, she spoke. 

'Hello, Master Elrond.' 

_The audience just sat there, their abhorrence disguised by the Author and turned into badly written shock as they attempted not to gag at the lack of grammar or proper wording. Legolas was vainly trying to back-pedal away from her, trying to shield his eyes and run, but the Author still refused them free reign over their actions._

They had expected the one to be a man, and that one to be very confused. This was the total opposite of what they had expected. This was the hope of Middle-Earth? 

**_All of this would be properly dramatic if most of us did not know how it were going to end already._**

'My, you few are extremely... Silent today. At least a greeting for a girl who has just dropped into a book, or if Middle-Earth possibly existed, back in time?' 

_Elrond tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. He failed, and perhaps not due to too much effort._

'Well, I greet you, lady...?' 

'Allesa, Master Elrond.' 

'Yes. Well firstly, we were expecting a man, and a confused one. You seem to have taken being pulled back in time in your stride.' 

'I see no need to shriek like an scared child.' 

'And you know us... how?' 

'Your doings are but a story to us in the future. I grew up reading about Middle-Earth and its history, and many times it felt very real.' 

_Elrond fell silent and thoughtful, wondering how on Middle-Earth Eru had the sense of humour to put him, his advisors, kin and Fellowship into the same situations time and time again. After a moment of inner self pity and thoughts which involved heading over to Valinor for the rest of his days, he spoke, even though he knew what was going to be said after him. It was kind of like a foresighted hindsight._

'I suppose you would ask why you are here,' Elrond said, resigned and reciting the lines from memory. 

'That would be nice to know, I suppose.' 

'Well, I see an explanation is needed,' Erestor said, equally as dull and disinterested. 

After a through explanation of their standings, Gimli could stand it no more. He stood and cried out, even as he tried not to, knowing it would earn him a slap or something. 

_The narrative made everyone cringe, and Gimli wanted to weep as he was forced to speak. He would have much preferred silence than hearing words his mouth did not want to speak._

'But she is merely a girl!' 

_The council tried to agree, but try they could not_. 

That proved to be a very wrong thing to say. Allesa's charcoal eyes whipped to meet his, icy cold and vicious. 'I see you finally noticed, master dwarf. And I suppose that you think me a fool of a child, though I be very young, and incapable?' 

'You are a child, for one.' 

_Gimli praised whatever Valar that were listening that the Author had somehow given him a line he actually wished to say._

'Mortal Mary-Sue, what would one such as you know?' 

_Then he winced again._

'More than you do, for one.' 

Gimli tried to behead her with his axe. It was like trying to destroy the One Ring with a toothpick. The axe simply rebounded off an invisible barrier, taking the dwarf with it. 

It was then that every Canon character present realized that the Author had finally grown tired of the story and left it to their devices. The italics disappeared, the natural course of things returning. Elrond sighed in relief as he felt the iron control of the narrative end and his own free will return. He looked at the Sue, who was suddenly whimpering. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that Sam was brandishing his frying pan at her. 

'There is nothing we can do, as usual. We will have to run this through, save Middle Earth, get somebody to fall in love with her, then send her home.' 

Everyone present heaved sighs of aggravation. Aragorn made arrangement to send most of his people back, seeing as that they would no longer be needed. Many began moving out of the room. 

Few noticed that Allessa was not looking at Legolas, as she should have been, as every Sue before her (and there were many) had. She was looking at Glorfindel. 


	2. The Power of Prose and Poetry

::The Power of Prose:: 

Disclaimer: Stuff belongs to people, not I. 

A/N: I apologize on my hands and knees to the following people: William Shakespeare (Sonnet XVIII), Elizabeth Barrett Browning (How Do I Love Thee?), Lord Byron (A really bad parody of "She Walks in Beauty") and of course, William Wordsworth (I Wandered As Lonely as A Cloud). All of them are probably turning in their graves now. 

Oh, my Eru/God/Mary-Sue exclamation! AN UPDATE! 

* 

The next day, Glorfindel awoke to the sound of a sort of screeching from his bedside window. 

_Dear Eru, what is that?_

From below: 

'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?   
For thou art more lovely and more temperate!   
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,   
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:' 

'Oh, Illuvatar,' Glorfindel swore as he screwed his eyes shut and tried to block the noise out. But the Sue's, I mean, Allesa's voice was too strong, and even the most downy of Elven pillows could not block it out. 

Back from below: 

'Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,   
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;   
And every fair from fair sometime declines,   
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;   
But thy eternal summer shall not fade' 

'Thou art not jesting,' Glorfindel cursed into his blanket, 'for I am immortal.' 

And it went on: 

'Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;   
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,   
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:' 

'Please, Manwë, Mandos, I have served Elrond well. What have I done to deserve this? I have already wandered once in Death's "shade", and at the moment, would gladly do so again.' 

But Allesa persisted, oblivious to the torment she was imposing upon Lord Glorfindel: 

'So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,   
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.' 

There was a sound of porcelain breaking down the corridor, and Legolas shouting "Not sonnet eighteen!" 

Glorfindel had no idea what "sonnet eighteen" was, but had a rather clear enough perception that realize that Legolas had suffered through it before. 

But it did not stop at breakfast. As the lord dressed, combed out his famed hair and donned dark blue leggings (just in case circumstance hailed that he needed to be quick on his feet) and a white tunic, there was more unbearable poetry, once fair, marring his day from the gardens beneath his balcony in all its angsty sadness. 

'How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.' 

As Glorfindel took upon all his discipline in an effort not to stab himself to death, the prattling continued, always following at what the Sue assumed was a respectful distance as he moved from his room to the Hall of Fire. _Claim my fea again, Mandos, please, please, please...._

'I love thee to the depth and breadth and height   
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight   
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.' 

Glorfindel resisted the urge to wince as he met Legolas in the corridor. The two blond elves shared a sympathetic look with one another. Glorfindel placed a hand on Legolas' shoulder as the Prince helplessly recounted the verse and prose that had tormented him throughout sleepless (cough) nights. 

'I love thee to the level of every day's' 

Glorfindel walked another step and mutter, 'and I hate thee to each night', 

'Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.' 

They continued walking. 'But loud are words, do they grate upon your ears contrite?' 

'I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;' 

The Hall seemed an eternity away. 'And women, their joy from quiet spite?' 

'I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.' 

Another step... 'And I love thee muchly, to end thy days,' 

'I love with a passion put to use' 

Glorfindel ground his teeth together to form a reply, 'Your decadence in varying hues,' 

'In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.' 

Legolas smiled slightly and tittered, 'And my new griefs, and my sorrows, and my...' 

'I love thee with a love I seemed to lose' 

The two elves chorused together, 'May it stay lost, leave eardrums unabused,' 

'With my lost saints, -- I love thee with the breath,' 

Glorfindel wanted to cry for joy as the doors approached. 'And I love thee with sword, dagger and death,' 

'Smiles, tears, of all my life! -- and, if God choose,' 

Another few steps.. 'Illuvatar, her brain already confused,' 

'I shall but love thee better after death.' 

'And I, you, not at all.' Legolas and Glorfindel both broke out into a run as the hall doors were in their reach. 

* 

Glorfindel stared at his food and viciously stabbed his eggs with his fork. 

'**He** walks in Beauty, like the night   
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;   
And all that's best of dark and bright   
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:   
Thus mellowed to that tender light   
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.' 

Legolas was absently speaking to Elladan, having created a filtration system that removed offending bits of chopped poetry from his experienced ears. If Glorfindel had a choice, his ears would have been bleeding. 

_Why, Manwe? I have never had a Sue before. I do not *want* one!_

Glorfindel swore he heard laughter upon the wind. 

'One shade the more, one ray the less,   
Had half impaired the nameless grace   
Which waves in every raven tress,   
Or softly lightens o'er **his** face;   
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,   
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.' 

Elrohir, amused, realized that the fork was going to break if his friend clutched it any tighter. The remains of Glorfindel's breakfast, most of it uneaten, looked as if they had been stomped upon by Olog-Hai (real, Middle-Earth creatures, unlike some of the invented Uruc-Hai, Uru-Hai, Orc-Hai, Sugar-Hai and Uruk-Die of other Sues) and then spat out by the Watcher-In-The-Water. Elrond found it rather nauseating and thanked every valar and valie for Celebrian. Allesa wailed on. 

'And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,   
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,   
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,   
But tell of days in goodness spent,   
A mind at peace with all below,   
A heart whose love is innocent!' 

Erestor could not help but snort into his tea from his seat directly opposite Glorfindel. The eldar was hardly innocent; two lives had assured everyone of that fact. But as he looked up, the chief advisor thought it rather wise not to make mention of it at the moment. The Balrog would have fled in terror from the look on Glorfindel's face. 

Suddenly, Allesa's tone became more self pitiful. 

'I wandered lonely as a cloud   
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,   
When all at once I saw a crowd,   
A host, of golden daffodils;   
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,   
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.' 

Glorfindel wanted to cry in anguish. Surely there was a way to end this pain? This suffering? The elf lord suddenly saw Legolas in a new light. 

'Continuous as the stars that shine   
And twinkle on the milky way,   
They stretched in never-ending line   
Along the margin of a bay:   
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,   
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.' 

_Killmenowkillmenowkillmenow_. Uttering a rather strong Quenya curse, Glorfindel poured himself a rather large amount of _miruvor_. Mildly from his seat at the front of the table, Elrond commented lightly as he munched, quite unperturbed, on his salad, 'Alcohol so early, Glor?' 

Glorfindel drowned the glass in one swallow. Aragorn subtly moved all alcoholic beverages away from the golden-haired elf's reach. 

'The waves beside them danced; but they   
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:   
A poet could not but be gay,   
In such a jocund company:   
I gazed---and gazed---but little thought   
What wealth the show to me had brought:' 

The kitchen staff hurriedly cleared the table in an attempt to salvage their crockery and hard work before Glorfindel got any other ideas on what to do with the remaining hard-boiled eggs that were left uneaten. Frodo looked rather green, but beyond that, enjoying the morning, and the rest of the table seemed to share the hobbit's sentiments. Glorfindel began to glow. 

Erestor raised his eyebrows in alarm. He knew that Glorfindel, having had a new life, befriended Olorin, gained powers that no other elf had, wise beyond the ages, powerful elf lord of an ancient house and one who lived at once in both the physical and the spiritual, could easily do what he did at the Forge: tap on the soul that was the Glorfindel of Gondolin, old and terrifying to face in battle, shining with an inner light that Laurelin and Telperion once fuelled. But at the dining table?! His friend was, however, most definitely glowing. A heat emanated off his body, and the fork that the servers had been unable to wrench from his grasp suddenly appeared far too sharp. Elrond also seemed to have noticed. 

'Glor...?' 

The Gondolin elf seemed oblivious, his eyes burning in rage. The Lord of Imladris was getting rather alarmed. 

'Glor... Put that fork down...' 

'For oft, when on my couch I lie   
In vacant or in pensive mood,   
They flash upon that inward eye   
Which is the bliss of solitude;   
And then my heart with pleasure fills,   
And dances with the daffodils...' 

It was only by the combined efforts of Erestor, Lindir, Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir and Aragorn that they managed to peel and infuriated Glorfindel off a trembling Allesa. Thankfully (for the Sue), Allesa was, well, a Sue. But having a glowing, tall, vanya/noldo elf charge at you from across the dinner table with a fork does things to people. 

However, the love struck Sue seemed to be thinking of it as a come on. 

Glorfindel spent the next hour in the healing house drinking a mild sedative, cursing, swearing and generally using expletives that made even Elladan wince.   
  
  
  
  



	3. Mindlessness

::Mindlessness::   


Disclaimer: I own nothing. Once again, apologies to artists like Christina A. (Reflection) and Britney S. (Born to Make You Happy), even though I am not-so-sorry to say that I greatly dislike both of them. (*pukes* I still can't believe I used these songs, but I wanted to go for all out teenybopper, so... Takes pain to have gain.) Apologies to tainting the song "Black Black Heart" (can you tell that this is going to be a nightmare chapter for poor Glor?) by David Usher. 

A/N: Time for confession. This fic as you see it now is the second generation of an old, nineteen chapter fic. A nineteen chapter MARY SUE fic. Yes, I was once an ignorant read-the-books-a-long-time-ago movie-Sue-writer. This Sue was, shock horror, based on this very fic that was some years ago, before I repented, and, like Maglor, went into self-exile to refresh my memory. But now, like Glorfindel, I hath returned from the Halls of Mandos (for I was rightfully killed by the history and family lines of Elrond), reborn and armed with my now extensive knowledge of my 11 HoMEs, Silmarillion, Unfinished Tales and my refreshed knowledge of the Hobbit and, of course, four to five years of slavery under Lord of the Rings itself. Studying Quenya more than I rightfully should, I also have embarked upon the linguistics path, and have returned, writing AU but roughly canonical fics. I have been reborn from the Unforgivable Sin (as can be seen from the terrifying old fic that this was: I wince every time I recall it), and have come to make peace and redeem myself of it by writing this mock parody of the Mary Sue that Allesa (wince) rightfully is. 

Also made a correction in chapter two: I said as Glorfindel did in the **Forge**instead of **Ford** as I intended. *grimaces* Silly me. 

On better news, my birthday is tomorrow, so do drop me a review and make me a happy author! 

* 

Glorfindel was lying on one of the divans along the walls and windows of the Healing House, a cup of mild herbal tea in his left hand. His right arm was draped out the window, and the elf lord threw his head back, closed his eyes and enjoyed the sounds and smells of a fresh spring morning. The Author had magically changed the season again, but that was of no consequence. 

The ex-Gondolin warrior was just taking another sip when a commotion from below caused him to spit it all out, causing Elrond, who was tending to one of the kitchen staff that had unfortunately missed ducking when Allesa threw a plate at Frodo by "accident", to look up inquiringly. 

'Does the mix taste that bad? Do you want some honey with it?' 

Glorfindel was looking too green to reply, so Elrond got up to look out of the window to see what was making his friend blanch so. 

From below: 

One very rumpled looking Allesa was holding what looked like a shining piece of glowing metal foil attached to a bit of wood. She called it Angëlauchémirö, whatever on Earth, Middle Earth, Aman, the Universe and the general black hole of existence that meant. It looked like one of those Chinese opera props, which were made out of flimsy cardboard wrapped in cooking foil. The sword, or stick, or whatever, wobbled as the Sue waved it about. A forlorn look was on her face as she commanded Elladan and Elrohir to teach her how to fight with it. 

Elladan was howling with laughter, rolling on the grass and too weakened by his outburst to even pick up his sword, which, unlike the Sues, was made up of normal metal attached to a normal hilt in a normal colour that did not glow. Elrohir was stoically trying to keep a straight face, but was failing miserably. 

The stick seemed to glow brighter. 

Glorfindel gripped his tea in his hand, looked down at it, then up at Elrond again. The elf drowned the entire cup (sedatives and all) in one gulp then stood up, snatching up his dagger (which he now took around the House at all times for safety precautions - one never knew when the Author would conjure up a orc party for the Sue to slay with her pink nail polish, I mean, heroically eradicate.) and stomped, or at least walked as heavily as an elf could, out of the House and down into the gardens. Erestor, who had appointed himself in charge of the general well being (both physical and mental) of his best friend, trailed at a safe distance, throwing Elrond a troubled look. 

Glorfindel stomped into the garden, a savage look imprinted on his otherwise hardened features. Elladan stopped laughing, and Elrohir's mock serious face settled into a genuine look of fear. Glorfindel wore that look on three occasions: Firstly, when he left Imladris to go do a mop up of the borders, which happened only very rarely, because even though he was Captain of the Guard, Glorfindel was forced to stay within the nearer borders due to the implications of his duty and loyalty to Elrond's house (and, being one of the oldest elves in Imladris, to keep everyone sane during Sue attacks, something that had changed drastically). That usually involved a serious case of at least two score of orcs charging into Imladris, and a week or so later, about two single orcs fleeing the valley with a bright, glowing elf chasing after them and yelling obscenities. Glorfindel called it stress relief. The Twins, experienced fighters and bloodthirsty killers of orc colonies themselves, called it Bloody Frightening. 

Secondly, Glorfindel wore that look when Someone Is About To Die, usually one of the Twins or Erestor. This, in their younger years, involved painful procedures whereby two young elflings would be stuck clearing muck and other things out of the stables for weeks on end. In Erestor's case, it involved the chief advisor of Imladris running out of the room whenever Glorfindel walked in. This only happened once or twice every five centuries, the last was when Elladan and Elrohir had sheared half of Glorfindel's hair off. The result was not pretty. 

Third, and most frightening of all, was when Glorfindel was Angry. This is not the usual type of Angry, but rather the Scare-You-Beyond-The-Circles-Of-The-World kind of Angry. This was usually classified and reserved for when Glorfindel went to war. He would do the full package: Start glowing, grab his extremely dangerous (and sharp) sword, start killing everything in sight and never speaking until his object of intent was either dead or beyond recognition. The Witch-King of Angmar had fled from Glorfindel when he had last been in that state, so one could easily understand how two 2800 year old Twins felt about their old tutor walking almost sedately towards them, holding a dagger that was probably older than they were and wearing a singularly homicidal look on his face. 

To Allesa, he looked like a simpering blond hottie who was about to walk up and kiss her. Fluttering her eyelashes in a way that made Erestor feel like spilling the contents of his stomach, the Sue walked up to Glorfindel. 

'Legolas? Are you feeling all right?' 

Teeth ground together, Glorfindel snatched Ang-, Angëla-, I mean, argh, Angëlauchémirö out of the Sue's grasp and snarled. 

'I. am. not. Legolas.' 

Glorfindel, now properly Light-Bulbing, took a look at the sword, which, to him, struck a rather painfully deep chord. 

Few swords, elven or no, glowed. Only one he knew was still in good enough condition to emit enough light to serve its former purpose: Sting. Its true name, which Glorfindel recalled, had been lost long ago. 

All these swords, either lost, beyond repair or stolen, were forged in Gondolin. 

And it made Glorfindel was to kill the next Sue who walked into Imladris holding a sword with a ridiculous name that did. The sword, not a Mary-Sue and certainly not invincible, quivered in his grasp and dimmed. If it were human, the sword would probably have fainted by then. Glorfindel sneered, brought it down over his knee and left the snapped bits of very thin metal on the ground before striding off with a self satisfied smirk on his face. 

Erestor ticked off something on his list: 

Glorfindel: || 

Sue: | 

* 

Aragorn was sitting in his old room, playing a game of chess with his foster father. The two of them were merrily discussing the events that were likely to take place, now that the Sue and Glorfindel were at it neck and neck. Elrond was wagering on how long the two would last against each other while Aragorn was busy wondering when the Sue would realize that Glorfindel was _not_ Legolas Greenleaf in disguise. 

'Did you see the look on Legolas' face when he realized that the Sue had mistaken him for Glorfindel?' 

There was an oddly frightening overtone of glee in the human's voice. Elrond's low tones were laced with amusement. 

'It was almost as priceless as the look on Glorfindel's face.' 

'And when she starting reciting poetry...' 

They both chuckled. Elrond had just executed a good gambit when Glorfindel charged in, trembling slightly. The elf seated himself on the bed and placed the pillow over his head. Aragorn blinked. 

'Glofee?' 

'Don't call me that. You're over eighty years old now, Estel.' 

'Glofee?' 

Silence. 

'Listen.' 

In the distance: 

'Maybe Legolas doesn't like the classics. There must be something wrong with me. *sniffle* He hates me! But there is an odd look in his eyes whenever he sees me. Could there be something behind the wall of his heart... for me?' 

Aragorn almost had to stuff his king down his throat to stop himself from laughing. Glorfindel was busy trying to asphyxiate himself with the pillow. 

More singing came: 

'_Look at me_   
_You may think you see_   
_Who I really am_   
_But you'll never know me_   
_Every day_   
_It's as if I play a part_   
_Now I see_   
_If I wear a mask_   
_I can fool the world_   
_But I cannot fool my heart___

_Who is that girl I see_   
_Staring straight back at me?_   
_When will my reflection show_   
_Who I am inside?_' 

Elrond used all his strength, for Glorfindel's sake, to stop himself from laughing. 

'_I don't know how to live without your love_   
_I was born to make you happy_   
_'Cause you're the only one within my heart_   
_I was born to make you happy_   
_Always and forever you and me_   
_That's the way our life should be_   
_I don't know how to live without your love_   
_I was born to make you happy._' 

Glorfindel now distinctly felt like tearing his braids out. The worse was yet to come, though, when Allesa's CD-player (which had mysteriously popped up via inter dimensional portal), starting blasting this song: 

'_Black black heart why would you offer more_   
_Why would you make it easier on me to satisfy_   
_I'm on fire I'm rotting to the core_   
_I'm eating all your kings and queens_   
_All your sex and your diamonds._' 

Needless to say, Glorfindel was most... disturbed. He spent the better part of the day back in the Healing House, trying to tear his ears out. 

Elrond was more than just amused. 


	4. Demonstration

::Demonstrations:: 

Disclaimer: Bow to Tolkien. Worship. 

A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates. *solemn* I have no reasons. Hang me and proclaim me guilty! Otherwise, dropping a review, adding me to your favourites lists or flaming the living Muses out of me might work, too. *grin* 

* 

Glorfindel sat with the others in a room that night, sitting as far away from the door as possible. There were occasional sounds drifting past the corridor, ranging from Vivaldi to Rob Zombie, and needless to say the entire noble family and their associates had moved into Elrond's sitting room to try and flee from Allesa's frightening musical tastes. 

Glorfindel glumly played with the stem of his wine glass and, for the lack of a better word, flopped backwards into his chair. Grimly setting an expression born of resignation on his features, he turned to Legolas. 

'What, exactly, do they mean when they proclaim one of... _them_ to be a rabid fangirl?' 

There was a still in conversation as all the elves pondered the question. Elladan helpfully shrugged, taking a sip of the miruvor. 

'Maybe they mean that they are ill,' he put in with more mirth than conviction. 

'Mentally ill,' his twin happily contributed. Glorfindel did not look amused. Erestor smiled to himself at the look on his friend's face. 

'They do have a point,' the advisor said, earning himself a death glare. Elrond mused quietly to himself. 

'Maybe we should invent a vaccine,' the lord of Imladris proclaimed with absolute seriousness. Glorfindel threw a grape at him. Elrond caught it and popped it into his mouth, smiling smugly. Legolas looked slyly at the elder elf lord and stood, causing the occupants of the room to look at him curiously. 

'Perhaps it would be best if Allesa could _demonstrate..._' 

Before anyone could move, the agile Mirkwood elf had flung the door open with much dramatic pomp and yelled out, 

'Allesa! Help! Legolas has fallen out of the window!' 

Utterly absurd, but the reactions that followed that one outburst were interesting, to say the least. 

There was a sound of glass breaking and an unearthly shriek, and a door slammed somewhere. Glorfindel paled, his flaxen hair suddenly appearing most vibrant, and looked wildly about for a means of escape. Legolas looked most smug, leaning against the door frame with casual ease, his arms folded one above the other as he held the door open for the arrival of the Mary Sue. 

Not more than fifty seconds later, Allesa flung herself into the room, hair wild and eyes rolling, looking for all the world like a rabid horse. Spinning about in a most undignified manner, she scanned the room, gesticulating wildly. 

'Legolas?! Where? Where has he gone? What has happened?' 

The real Legolas, safe in his assumed identity, pointed out of the window, which was no more than a meter off the ground outside. It faced Celebrian's rose bushes, which, due to the unfortunate (hack) change of weather, as the Author felt an attraction to winter, were bare but still very, _very_ thorny. With a distressed voice that would have done any fairy tale damsel proud, Legolas threw a hand over his eyes, acting as if he were born for the stage. Oddly enough, Glorfindel was missing from the room. 

'How _trrrragggic!_ Lord Legolas,' there he could barely keep his face straight, 'Has accidentally **flung** himself out of the _winddooooow_!' 

Even Elrond had to admit that the trill that Legolas but into the word _window_ would have done any teacher proud, he enunciation and pronunciation perfect to the point where Erestor wanted to clap and throw flowers at the prince. Allesa shrieked, turning to Elladan and gripping him by the collar, shaking the stunned More-Than-Half-Elf with amazing strength. 

'Is it true? Please tell me it is not true!' 

There was a pained moan from outside the window, even though it sounded nothing like Glorfindel. Elladan, immediately acting his own part, nodded with a somber face more fit for a funeral. 

'I am afraid so, _Lady_ Allesa. He might have broken something, even.' 

Elrohir fought back a snigger. 'Like a fingernail,' he whispered to his father. Allesa unceremoniously dumped Elladan, who had done a brilliant job of keeping a straight face while being lifted out of his chair by his shirt, back into his seat and rounding on the younger twin. 

'What? He broke something?' 

Elrohir straightened and sighed, as if bemoaning the loss of a good man. 

'Maybe a leg. Or two.' 

Allesa made a whimpering sound. Erestor, positively amazed by the show that was going on, recklessly threw himself into the fray. 

'Oh, the Lord Thranduil would be _most_ upset! Imagine how he would feel about the fact that the _crown prince_, who has _yet to take a bride_, has _mortally_ injured himself while _falling out of a window_! Middle Earth could not possibly stand such a loss!' 

Aragorn managed a false but rather realistic sounding moan of sorrow, falling out of his chair and making a huge display of pouring what remained of his glass of wine down his throat in the ultimate portrayal of a man gone mad with grief. Clutching at Allesa's shirt, the king flung his wild hair (royalty had not managed to change the ways of Strider of Bree) about his shoulders and pleaded with the other human. 

'Please! _PLEASE_ save my friend who is so close to my heart!' 

Legolas had to lift a hand to his mouth a feign a sob of horror to conceal his snort. Gimli stood, intent on pushing the Sue to her limits. 

'The fool elf! How could he do such a Valar damned stupid thing like that?' 

Allesa rounded on him with a look that made her seem like a balrog reborn in a humanoid form. 

'Legolas is not stupid! You freak! You bearded, stunted freak!' 

She lunged forward, fingernails flashing. Frodo flung himself in the way of danger, falling on his side and pretending to weep. 

'Can you hear Legolas _sobbing outside the window_, Glorfindel?' 

"Glorfindel" closed the door and nodded solemnly. There was a wail that sounded more like a Nazgul moan than anything else from the windowsill. 

'He sounds as if he were in great pain.' 

The moans increased threefold. Legolas painted a anxious look on his face. 

'Oh, won't _anybody _save him?' 

That set Allesa off. A grim look on her face, she shouted most exuberantly. 

'I must go.' 

Elrond nodded sagely. 

'We shall prepare this room for his arrival. We will _have_ to shut the window _immediately_, to prevent any other accidents from happening, but _alas_ that the only _other_ route to the gardens have been closed for _replanting_.' 

Allesa's face was the perfect picture of honourable self-sacrifice. 

'I will do it. For Legolas.' 

She then threw herself out of the window. There was a sound of breaking bushes and the howls of a female as she was poked by no few thorns. Silence reigned in the room as Elrond shut the windows and latched them. Lindir walked in through the door, and Legolas latched and bolted it. 

Erestor turned to the minstrel and looked simply at him for a moment. 

'You are a most talented ventriloquist, Lindir,' he quietly praised. 

Silence. 

Glorfindel burst out of Elrond's closet, entangled in his Lord's purple robes of office. 

'I hate you, Legolas,' he swore, attempting to stand and remove the offending cloth from his body. The entire room burst out laughing. The golden haired Eldar glared at them. 'I am glad you find my suffering amusing.' 

Erestor went over to help his friend. Lindir threw himself onto the couch, sitting next to Faramir. 

'How long do you think it will take her to remove herself from the rose bushes? I had a hard time myself,' the bard said with false arrogance peppering his smooth voice. Elrond snorted. 

'I am not to sure. We were letting the bushes grow, since we are going to prune them in a number of weeks anyhow.' 

Elrohir smirked. 

'I doubt you will need to prune _naneth_'s rose bushes for a while now, Ada,' the younger of the twins offered. The older elf chuckled. 

'If I have any bushes left after she has finished searching for "Legolas".' 

Legolas bowed in acknowledgement. Faramir shook his head. 

'You elves are all insane.' 

'It comes with years of nothing but boredom and alcohol, my friend,' the Mirkwood elf said. Aragorn laughed. 

'You would know.' 

Legolas made a valiant effort at looking affronted, and failed. 

'So Ada has the largest wine cellars from here to Aman. That does not mean anything.' 

There was a howl from outside, and the plaintive sounds of Allesa going "Legolas? Where are you?". Aragorn's lips turned up in a dry smile. 

'Of course not.'   
  



	5. Accidental Identity Crisis

::Identity Crisis:: 

Disclaimer: His, not mine. 

A/N: Ahh, I haven't had the time to write for ages! Sorry for the lack of updates. School life bites with all the strength of a Balrog attempting to chop a Sue in half. 

* 

In between all that had happened from the year 3418 of the Third Age onwards to the current date, Glorfindel had rarely come into contact with a Sue. This was due to a multitude of reasons: firstly because Rivendell was often confused with Riven_dale_, secondly because Legolas was situated in Mirkwood, and thirdly because most authors merely forgot him or spelt his name wrongly, for example Glorfindle. So, to suddenly have his first Sue land on him was something of a traumatic experience for the elf, and handling it was taking much delicate finesse on his part. He had tried his best to clarify that he was in fact _not_ Legolas, but nothing seemed to have worked. Only three days ago this conversation had taken place: 

Allesa had been walking down a Generic Garden Path, and Glorfindel had been doing pretty much the same. They, by Fate or Author's Craft, ended up bumping into each other. Glorfindel had let out a most un-elven squeak and tried to turn and run in the opposite direction, but alas, Allesa caught him by the boot and they both tumbled down onto the ground. And each other. 

Glorfindel had been mortified to the Void and back, but Allesa looked positively giddy with delight as she made no move whatsoever to get off the Elf lord. 

'Oh my goodness,' she had exclaimed in a falsetto so high it made Glorfindel's ears bleed. Metaphorically, of course. 'I'm _so_ sorry, Lord Legolas!' 

'I am sure you are, but you are mistaken,' Glorfindel demurely replied as he tried, with all the discretion and subtlety of an elf who had undergone much in his lifetime, to wriggle out from under her. Allesa completely ignored his efforts, clutching at her ankle. 

'Oh no,' she had cried again, 'I seem to have twisted my ankle! Lord Legolas, I apologize for the accident,' there she turned tear-filled eyes upon him. They widened after a moment of serious consideration on her part, then she almost shouted, 'Dear Eru, are _you _hurt, Lord Legolas?' 

'I'm not Legola--!' Glorfindel was then most rudely shocked by Allesa's hand wandering down his leg in an attempt to search for any possible injuries. Yelping in a most undignified manner, he had struggled to sit up and simultaneously remove the offending appendage from his anatomy. 'My lady,' he choked out, turning an indelicate shade of red, 'I am perfectly fine, no lasting injuries of any sort, but I fear that I am not Legolas Greenleaf and you have-- _Please remove your hand immediately!_' 

Allesa, with all the innocence of a child, looked up at him. 

'Why, Lord Legolas, you look most flushed!' 

Glorfindel would have given anything, absolutely _anything_, to just bury his head in the sand and die of mortification. Of course, the Author had chosen that very moment for the _real_ Legolas to turn up, and with all the black humour that he had displayed not too long ago, he had said: 

'Legolas! Whatever are you doing with Allesa in the middle of the path? Surely you dare not assault her modesty!' 

Glorfindel went positively tomato red, and Allesa suddenly became most shy and not at all provocative. 

'Legolas, stop this immediately, I'm not you and you are not me-' 

'Lord Glorfindel?' Allesa butted in, completely ignoring the protests of the elf under her. 'I fear you misunderstand. I merely fell on Lord Legolas when I fell! He is _too_ noble to do _anything_ to me, surely!' 

Glorfindel opened and closed his mouth several times before settling with glaring in hatred at the Prince of Mirkwood. The real Legolas helped the Sue up, even going to the point of brushing a leaf out of her hair. 

'Thank Eru. For a moment I feared that your beauteous countenance had been violated!' 

Allesa giggled nauseatingly and batted her eyelids, completely devoid of any "injury". 

'Never! Not Lord Legolas.' 

Glorfindel just stood up, mouthed some very bad Quenyan words at Legolas, and fled. And that was only one occurrence. 

Then, less than a day later, Bad Things started happening. Glorfindel began to develop signs of internal instability. Between being confused for an elf prince a number of millennia younger than him, the noldo/vanya started seeing things that had not been in existence for the better part of two thousand years. Lindir had been confused with Ecthelion, Elrond for Earendil (that, at least, was excusable). Elladan had been mistaken for Elrohir, an oversight that had not occurred for as long as either twin could remember. It was alarming for the entire population. The elf in question, after a number of scarring incidents, spent most of his time in the library, hiding from the world in general, trying not to see Gondolin in Imladris, and anyone who valued their life stayed far away. 

Over the course of the about a week, he had been tripped over thrice (an event no living creature could remember witnessing. Besides Legolas, of course, bless his fea), mistaken for Legolas four times, mistaken people for First-Age elves five times and been given medicine for hallucinations six times. In between all this, Allesa had been there to "help" pick him up, "escort" him to a room whenever he felt heady, "provide" for his needs and generally act in a sickeningly sweet manner. 

It was only when he threw up (no Firstborn could be ailed by natural sickness) did a crying Allesa confess as to having put a "love potion" attained from Lord "Glorfindel" in Lord "Legolas'" food that the situation was (finally) resolved. 

And yet, Glorfindel still lived in constant paranoia of seeing the Unseen. In the space of less than seven days, the Sue had managed to drive him to the point of Channelling twice, and Erestor had to give him sedatives every night to get him to sleep. Legolas, the traitorous, back stabbing bas- I mean, helpful, concerned prince that he was, had begun to give him counselling sessions on how to get over Sue trauma. Oh, the painful irony! 

None of it was working. 

The elf now walked around with a perpetually haggard look on his face. Aragorn, Elladan, Elrohir and the rest of his many students began to instinctively move away from their old tutor whenever he entered a room. It was now a taboo to serve alcohol in the mornings. The serving staff had been instructed never to put anything sharper than a fork or blunt butter knife in front of the elf lord. Elrond was beginning to look suspiciously like a modern psychiatrist, minus the spectacles and clip board. Allesa, still on her cloud nine of Elf-ignorancy, merely thought that her elf-of-choice was losing sleep over her earth-shattering beauty. 

Besides all the slowly mounting tension, nothing much had developed. The usual Plot was going through, but for the most part the Author seemed to have slowed down. Imladris, on its toes, wished fervently for any Plot Device or Plot Hole, no matter how gapingly large, to appear. It was all quite ridiculous. Of course, no one, mortal, immortal, elf or Second born, dared to say it to Glorfindel's face. The armoury had been discreetly locked up for that purpose alone. 

Then, Something Really Weird happened. 

'Glorfindel...?' 

The elf in question started and spun around with the look of a man hunted. The golden hair was mussed, and unbound, wayward strands were flying everywhere. His clothes were in disarray, and he looked rather _too_ pale, even for one of the Firstborn. To the casual observation of the newly arrived Lord of All Waters, Glorfindel looked as if he had just come out of an... interesting encounter. 

'You!' the twice-born lord cried in outrage, ignoring completely the fact that Ulmo could turn him into a puddle of Elf-shaped goo if he so pleased. 'You! What are you doing here?' 

'Glorfindel...? Are you feeling all right? Have you been doing anything... strange?' 

Glorfindel did not respond, only turning away, restraining himself just that little bit from covering his ears with his hands. 

'It is all that wretched _girl's _fault. I can't hear you, no, I can't.' 

Ulmo was now definitely confused at the attitude his vassal was displaying. _Girl?_ Had his elven servant turned into a pedophile? 

'Of course you can hear me. I'm right here.' 

Glorfindel spun around to glare with a jaundiced eye at the Vala. Ulmo was beginning to get fairly alarmed. The elf spoke in measured tones, expressing and pronouncing every syllable with astonishing clarity. 

'No, I cannot. I will not. You might be one of _them_.' 

One of _who_? He was a VALA, for crying out loud! He could be _anybody_. Oh. The Careful Approach, then. 

'Glorfindel, are you sure you are not feeling ill...?' 

'Can't hear you.' 

'Glorfind-' 

'Min!' [One, Sindarin.] 

'Glorfindel, why are-' 

'Tâd!' [Two.] 

'Why on Aman are you-' 

'Neled!' [Three.] 

'Are you counting in Sindarin, Glor-' 

'Canad!' [Four.] 

'You _will_ respect me and _turn around, _Glorfindel!' 

'Pae!' [Ten.] 

'Oh, for Eru's-' 

'Neder!' [Nine.] 

'_Glorfindel, -_' 

'Toloth!' [Eight.] 

'_Turn around, you imbecile!_' 

Finally cowed, the reborn Elf stopped attempting to count backwards in Sindarin and turned around carefully. He inspected the man before him with cautious eyes, wondering. 

Hair? Check. Well, it _looked_ like Ulmo... 

Voice? Check. It _sounded_ like Ulmo. 

Aura? Check. It even _felt_ like Ulmo. 

'How do I know you are who you say you are?' Definitely off his rocker, the Vala thought. The transition between the Halls must have hit him hard. This one needed some rehabilitation over in Aman, no doubt. Glorfindel, oblivious, continued his rant. 'You could be _Manwe_ for all I know. Eru forbid, you could be _Eru!_' 

'Manwe is my _brother_, Glorfindel. And he is currently residing on the top of Evereven, wondering why you are acting like a living lunatic.' 

Glorfindel stared at him. 'You,' he said, 'you think I am mad?' 

Erm. Well, how to approach _this?_

'Well, not really, per se...' 

'You lie.' 

Blink? Ulmo watched Glorfindel carefully as the elf started pacing. 

'You are acting out of character. Your speech has become modern. You use vernacular that has not yet developed. Your eyes are a shade too blue.' 

'Too blue? Glorfindel, my eyes are my own, and I believe _strongly_ that they are the right colour!' 

'That is what they say!' Glorfindel hollered, losing all sense of composure, 'That is what they ALL say!' 

'Glorfindel.' 

There was a silence. Glorfindel shuffled his feet nervously, looked up at the Vala who stared back at him with raised eyebrows, then finally dipped into a formal bow. 

'Ulmo, my lord.' 

'Well,' Ulmo said conversationally, allowing his eyebrows to finally fall 'now that _that_ is out of your system, I think I had best tell you of my purpose.' 

'Purpose, my lord?' Glorfindel echoed with an aching hope in his eyes. 'Does it have something to do with a Sue?' 

'Sue?' 

'Someone called Allesa, my lord.' 

'Oh yes, in fact, it does. Council has been held in Aman, Glorfindel. The Eight have discovered something startling.' 

'A way to destroy her?' 

A frown flashed over Ulmo's face. 

'Destroy her? Why on Middle-Earth would I want to destroy my sister's-daughter's-son's-daughter's-neice-twice-removed?' 

Glorfindel's jaw dropped as he looked at the Vala he had put his trust in for the past, oh, few Ages. 

'Nienna has a _child?_' was the most intelligent thing his non-responsive mind could come up with. The Ulmo-Who-Was-Maybe-Not-Ulmo had the grace to look sheepish. 

'Well, not to say that her _husband_...' 

Suddenly, the impact of having a Vala-who-was-no-longer-_the_-Vala in the same room with him caused Glorfindel to come back to his senses. 

One of the most respected Elf-Lords on Middle-Earth gave out a little mumble that sounded like "mirrble_squeak_" and fainted dead onto the floor.   
  
  
  



	6. Mushrooms and Hobbits

::The Many Assets of Mary Sue:: 

Disclaimer: Nothing herein is mine except for the plot and the way I use things that are not mine. *laughs* 

A/N: I would not suggest that people who like Mary Sues read this fic. Of course, if you flame me it is your prerogative, but you would be better off leaving me alone, yeah? Anyhow, thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far and liked it! 

* 

Glorfindel was in some sort of shock induced trauma. He now twitched violently whenever anyone, whether it be Elrond or one of the servants, mentioned anything to do with the words "child", "Ulmo", "Nienna", "vala", "valie" or "twiced-removed" and had very near resorted to Channelling and using a serving spoon as a weapon. The armoury, Glorfindel's own blade and bow, even marginally sharp eating utensils and other randomly dangerous objects were kept under close watch whenever he appeared. The eldar seemed to refuse to even acknowledge anything about the workings of the ainur, and insisted whenever anyone asked that "ignorance was bliss" and that they both were "better off not knowing". Thus, the elf went around attempting to ignore every form of higher power; and woe to anyone who spoke of such things near him. 

Elrond said that it was an expected side-effect of one falling head first onto hard flooring, but personally Erestor felt that his friend had just finally cracked under the stress. 

Neither of them mentioned it to him, of course. 

And so life went on, a vicious cycle of doing nothing and waiting for the world to explode. 

* 

Glorfindel drummed his fingers on the table expectantly, looking from Erestor to Elrond. It seemed that the Author had more or less abandoned them into a interminable period of limbo, and nothing further seemed to have spawned to aid the Plot (or mayhap the lack thereof of one) along its way. The three most highly respected elves in Rivendell were thus sitting, dressed in casual tunics and breeches, in Elrond's study, which had a rather panoramic view of Imladris. The eldest of them, however, was nowhere near interested in the scenery. 

'Well,' he said, 'What are we going to do about her?' 

Erestor looked almost flippant as he aimlessly lazed in his chair, too lethargic to even pretend to read the Tengwar that was imprinted before him. The leather of the book just felt good to hold; a reality in the madness of the world around him. 'The same thing we always do with them,' the adviser replied off-handedly, waving the bound book about carelessly. 'Give her a horse, one of our old rusty swords and shove you and the rest of the... _fellowship_ off to save the world.' 

Elrond did not even deign to answer, grousing a bit while staring fixedly out of one of his many windows. Glorfindel glared at his friend; the kind of jaundiced glare that only the very experienced have the benefit of executing well. 

'She is _clearly_ not ready to be tramping off in the wild. She falls into rose bushes, for Eru's sake!' 

Erestor rolled his eyes, clearly unconvinced by Glorfindel's argument. 

'She has many assets of her own.' 

'What is that supposed to mean?' 

Elrond merely pointed out of the window. 

* 

Outer Courtyard, downstairs 

* 

'Master Lindir!' 

There was a brief flash of white as Lindir streaked across the courtyard, running for what remained of his life and clutching his precious harp to his chest. This was followed by an equally quick blur of gold, which of course denoted Allesa's fast approaching countenance. Lindir chanced a look back before running as only an elf could - really fast. Allesa, however, was of the Mary Sue, and so she jumped and somehow managed to pin the distraught minstrel to a generic, convenient wall while still maintaining a brilliant smile on her brilliant face. 

'Master Lindir! Why ever were you running?' 

Lindir, usually the epitome of eloquent grace, stammered slightly as he scrabbled for a reason, _any _reason. 

'I was not _running_, so to speak, er, Lady Allesa, merely...' the minstrel floundered desperately for a word, 'Walking briskly.' 

High above them, in Elrond's study, three elves snorted. 

Allesa looked unconvinced, but she let the matter pass. 

'Master Lindir, I_ must_ ask a favour from thee!' 

Up in the study, Glorfindel turned his head and mouthed the word "thee" to Erestor in disbelief. The advisor merely sniggered from his position on the windowsill and motioned from him to keep watching. Allesa and Lindir, still completely unaware that they were prey to a number of eavesdroppers, went on. Lindir, trying valiantly to keep his terrified expression under control, swallowed and sagged against the wall in order to maintain as much distance from Allesa as possible. 

'Of course, _Lady_ Allesa... What is that you, I mean, _thy_, wish of me?' 

Elrond snickered uncontrollably and made note to compile a dictionary on the uses of Sue Language. Allesa, on the other hand, seemed not to notice her dismemberment of the English Language and forged forth, I mean, forward. 

'Master Lindir,' she repeated for the third time, 'I wish to borrow thy harp.' 

Glorfindel looked unimpressed. It would take more than a Balrog to separate Lindir, Minstrel of Imladris, from his harp. More than one bard from distant lands (courtesy of the Author) had tried, failed, and been sent to the healers with a harp shaped bruise the next day. Allesa, however, did not seem to fall prey to that aspect of Lindir's attitude as she leered threateningly over him. The white haired elf looked for any opportunity to bolt. 

Suddenly, Sam burst into the corridor, holding a basket of mushrooms. Allesa swerved around without releasing her hold on the captive elf and called out: 

'Sam! Have you been eavesdropping?!' 

Elrond inched backwards from the window guilty. Sam, who _had_ been eavesdropping and had decided to provide a diversion for Lindir, spun around and stuttered in his best "Innocent Hobbit Gardener" voice. 

'Me? No, no, miss Allesa, not me!' 

Lindir shook his head madly, motioning for Sam to think up something. Sam, now also caught in the snake's gaze, stalled. Allesa lurched forward. 

'Then why are you here with your... _mushrooms?_' 

She somehow managed to make the word "mushrooms" sound like a penalty from hell. Sam cringed. 

'No, no, Miss Allesa, I ain't been dropping no eaves!' 

Allesa looked at the mushrooms, then up at Sam. The poor hobbit looked transfixed, like a proverbial deer in headlights. Just that headlights did not exist then, but shh, no one need know. Least of all Sam. 

'You will give me the mushrooms,' Allesa said. 

'I will give you the mushrooms,' Sam replied. 

'You will not attempt to lure away my prey.' 

'I will not attempt to lure away your prey.' 

'You will forget this ever happened.' 

'I will forget this ever happened.' 

'You will go away now.' 

'I will go away now.' 

Glorfindel watched in a state of shocked amazement as Sam, gardener, protector of Frodo Baggins and _hobbit_, handed over a _basketful_ of _mushrooms_ to Allesa, bowed deeply and walked away, looking as if he had just been hit on the head with a heavy object. A really heavy object. 

Lindir took the opportunity to bolt, running for his life and this close to sobbing into his harp. 

Allesa looked torn between triumph and defeat, but after a moment of silence let out what could be counted as a really !Good evil laugh that went along the lines of "**mwaha. Mwahaha. MWAHAHAHA.**". 

Elrond looked vaguely impressed as he finally turned from the window and the three of them settled down once more. 

'Was that...?' Erestor finally dared to ask after the tension born in a long moment faded. 

'I do not really know, honestly,' Elrond said with a faint note of amused curiosity. As the evil!father of Arwen, he never got really all that bothered by Sues, and housing them had become some sort of habitual exercise for him. 'Either Allesa is truly a grade of Sue we have never yet encountered or Lindir has a really good friend in Samwise.' 

All three stared at the mushrooms. 

'We're doomed, aren't we?' Glorfindel offered gloomily. 

'Yes,' Erestor nodded, watching as Allesa carelessly threw the basket into the bushes. 'We are.'   



	7. Surreality

::Surreality::  
  
Disclaimer: Tolkien's, never mine. 

A/N: I apologize for the long delay! 

- 

When Glorfindel woke up one day, he found Elrond in his bedroom. 

Well, it looked like Elrond. It was Elrond's height and Elrond's width, Elrond's girth and Elrond's aura. It seemed to be Elrond. The character had Elrond-like hair and Elrond-like clothes, but he also had on very Un-Elrond-like contraptions. 

'Elrond,' the blond warrior asked, 'what on _Arda_ are those things?' 

Elrond, with punctuated and extremely painful articulation, replied, saying, 'These, Glor-find-el, are _sunglasses_.' 

'Sunglasses?' Glorfindel said incredulously. 'Did Gil-Galad give them to you? They look like something Ereinion would have worn for a laugh. They also look like something Allesa wou-' 

'Shh,' Elrond hissed, looking left and right in his Sunglasses. 'Do not speak, they might hear you.' 

'Elrond, there is no one else in this room?' 

Elrond glared at him through tinted lenses. 

'You live two lives, Glorfindel.' 

Glorfindel frowned. 'I _lived_ two lives, Elrond. I am currently living _one_ life. This one.' 

'You _live_ two _lives_,' Elrond repeated, with cunning deliberate tones. 'In one of these lives, you are a proud warrior, formerly of Gondolin, currently the Seneschal of Imladris.' 

Glorfindel decided that, with the state that Elrond was in, he had best keep quiet, and thus tried to arrange the sheets around him in a more delicate manner. Elrond went on. 

'But in your _other _life, Glorfindel, you are nothing but a scared elf who is afraid of the slightest thing to do with the female species.' 

'I beg to differ-' Glorfindel tried to say, but Elrond leaned menacingly over him and bared his teeth, going: 

'Like, duh.' 

Against his will, Glorfindel skirted backwards into the sheets and pulled the blanket over his head. Elrond leered evilly at him in smug satisfaction. 

'One of these lives,' the Lord of Imladris said, 'has a future.' He tugged the blanket down, and Glorfindel stared blankly up at the ceiling. His view was deprived by Elrond bending over him and the sight of his friend's face put very prominently in his own. 'The other,' Pause, pause. 'Does not.' 

Elrond removed himself, and Glorfindel sat up warily. Something was not quite what it seemed. 

'The world as you know it is going to change, Glorfindel. This,' Wide, gesticulating hand gestures succeeded that declaration, 'is nothing but an illusion, a deception made by Authors to hide the truth from your eyes.' 

Elrond paused and pushed the Sunglasses down his nose. 

'And the truth is, Glorfindel,' More oddly dramatic gazes, 'That the Authors are taking all means to turn us from this,' Elrond gestured at his currently respectable robed attire, 'Into this.' With a snap of his long fingers, Elrond somehow transformed his wardrobe, and stood there in black leather. 

Glorfindel felt very faintly ill, and Elrond quickly changed back. 

'You now have a choice, Glorfindel,' Elrond declared, pulling over a small table and chair. He placed himself in the chair and tried as much as he could to look regal, looking pointedly down his nose at his friend. 'You could take the red pill,' he said, slamming down what looked like a rounded seed with the letter "M" emblazoned on it, 'And fight. You will be withdrawn from this fake _Endore_, and drawn back into the real world, _Arda_. Everything you know will change. The touch of your bed sheets, the taste of wine, the feel of lobbing an orc's head off. They will never be the same. All this,' More ridiculous gestures, 'Will be a lie. You will stand up for yourself,' Elrond went on suggestively, and the "like, duh" echoed in Glorfindel's head, 'And fight. You will bring justice to Mary-Sues,' Elrond and Glorfindel both took the opportunity to turn their heads to the side and spit, 'and evil Authors everywhere.' 

The Master of Imladris let a few moments pass to let it sink in. 

'Or,' he declared, 'You could take the blue pull.' He slammed down a similar looking thing, just that this time it was blue in colour. 'You will wake up, and none of this will have ever happened. You will continue living your life, nothing will change, _but_,' Elrond leaned across the small space that separated them. 'All you will ever think about saving your innocent soul is,' Deep breath, '_Like whatever, man._' 

Elrond sat back and made one last expansive motion at the two pills. 

'I can only show you the door, you must walk through it. What do you want to do?' 

Glorfindel clutched at the red pill in terror and swallowed it dry. Elrond smiled in satisfaction, and tossed the blue pill out of a convenient window. 'Very good. Now, go to sleep, and when you wake up, everything will become clear to you.' 

When Glorfindel woke up next, Merry and Pippin were at the foot of his bed, eating something. 

''S M & Ms, Lord Glorfindel!' the younger one intoned, thrusting the packet over at him with just a tad too much force. Red and blue "pills" scattered themselves everywhere. 

'Erk,' Glorfindel said. 

'Like, you are _so_ dumb!' Merry snapped, snatching for the M & Ms. Pippin glowered, and his cousin shot him a triumphant look. 

'Come _on_, _everyone_ knows that brunettes have more fun!' 

Glorfindel closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and screamed. 

- 

'Glorfindel!' 

Someone was calling his name. 

'Glorfindel, wake up. Valar, what is wrong with you?' 

Sounded like Elrond. 

A icy stab of terror shot through him. 

Then someone poked him in the eye. 

'Ouch,' the elf lord said succinctly, waking up. Elrond, sans Sunglasses or leather, was at the foot of his bed. 

'Glorfindel,' the healer said in relief. 'You were in a daze, some sort of dream. Allesa tried to make you listen to some of her "music" yester eve, do you remember?' 

Scouring his memory, the golden haired elf winced. 'Yes. Something from some "Ma-trix" or another.' 

'You retired early after dinner, and Erestor was concerned. When he came in to check on you, you were writhing on your bed yelling "give me the blue pill". We could not wake you, and you have been here for three days since that dinner.' 

'Bad dreams, Elrond.' Glorfindel looked up, as if to assure himself that Elrond was there. 'I think Allesa put something in my drink again.' 

Elrond cringed. 'She did more than that, really. She put what seemed suspiciously like nightshade in your tea, then caused a minor incident almost akin to a Kinslaying when she stole Arwen's dresses and stashed them in her room. She came out the next day demanding to see you, saying something about how "he has to see me when he wakes, no one else!" and as usual, we refused her. It is a pity that two of our staff fainted from her rather unique choice of,' Elrond stumbled across the word, 'Kos-met-icks. Then, seeing no alternative, she practically set up camp outside your door.' 

Glorfindel listened, and could hear the vague strains of Britney Spears coming from outside his door. He looked at his friend in horror. 

'Fear not,' Elrond comforted him. 'I employed Elladan and Elrohir to build and maintain a rope ladder system outside of your window. And I planted rose bushes under your balcony.' 

Glorfindel sighed in relief, then looked up sharply. 

'Elrond,' he inquired severely, 'Did Ereinion _ever_ give you strange dark-looking devices that you could put in front of your eyes?' 

'No,' Elrond replied truthfully, eyes shining with confusion. 

'Or any blue or red looking foodstuffs?' 

'No.' 

'Are you positively sure?' 

'Yes.' 

'Good.' 

Then Glorfindel stood, made sure he was wearing something that did not come from dead cows, went to change, and dashed desperately for the rope ladder. 

'Glorfindel!' Elrond tried to call out. 'There's a false rung on the third -' 

Crash. 

'Ouch,' Elrond said sympathetically for his friend. 


	8. Random Plot Device, Part I

::Random Plot Device, Part I:: 

Disclaimer: Tolkien's, not mine. 

A/N: Again, a thousand million apologies for the not-updating. School is being bad again. 

- 

It was another nondescript day, as the Author had deemed it, when the first Random Plot Device came galloping, literally, into Rivendell. 

The Random Plot Device was actually a pseudo elf (Authors were wonderful that way) made out to look as if he had come from Mirkwood. The colours of his uniform (Glorfindel had almost choked on his morning tea when he saw the RPD) were, admittedly, a bit off the usual browns and greens (Erestor had commented that mustard yellow only meant that the Author was beyond colour-blind, not ignorant), but he turned out passably well for an original character. 

Well, that is, until he opened his mouth and attempted to speak. 

The Random Plot Device had jumped off his horse in blatant imitation of the Movie, before striking a pose that would have done any sea-faring adventurer proud and exclaimed: "Where is Lord Elrond?" 

This had only garnered him plenty of odd looks and resigned sighs, so he tried again. Stomping a foot in front of his horse (which scurried backwards), he declared once more: "Where is Lord Elrond?" 

Considering that the elves around him were paying _him_, the Random Plot Device, who was standing in the middle of the courtyard in mustard yellow and, to be a little crass, excretion brown, posing with one arm raised in the air and glaring at everyone with fierce determination, absolutely no attention at all, RPD (as we now will know him) gave up and began to dig about furiously in his saddle-bag. After a good long moment (which involved him throwing out, amongst a good number of things, a lurid purple hairbrush, two horseshoes and a firecracker), RPD finally whipped out a small book, of which was printed on the cover:_ Sindarin For Beginners_. 

A nearby elf, upon seeing the cover, used a hand to conceal uncontrollable sniggers that he deemed most un-elf-like before hurrying away in the opposite direction, no doubt to warn the administration of the on-coming disaster. Everyone else in the vicinity, however, was not as lucky, and almost had their ears seared off by what followed. 

'_Gwaith!_' he exclaimed in a loud voice, with pronunciation that fell about him in little shards of broken glass. 'Lasto,' there he paused, looked down from his pose, and began to turn the pages furiously, 'Beth nin!' (1) he exclaimed triumphantly, sending his phrase book a smug look of victory. Elves around him began to back away. Undaunted (and oblivious), he went on. 'Gerin tolo an Elrond!' (2) 

That caused a lot of people to break out into coughing fits, which confused RPD muchly. 

'What?' RPD snapped irritably, patience at its end. 'Am I saying something funny?' 

Lindir, from where he had been observing from a low second level bridge-cum-balcony, waved a finely-boned hand at him and muffled a snigger. 

'No, no,' the bard responded in perfect Common (which was, of course, not English, but the Author was being Omnipotent again and had Demanded It To Be So [and so it was]). He leaned a little bit over the bar and called out: 'You're doing fine. Go on!' 

'You speak Common?' RPD emoted, shock evident in his slightly discordant voice. Lindir suppressed a wince and laughed lightly. 

'It's all in your mind, mellon-nin.' 

That simple phrase sent RPD flipped madly through _Sindarin For Beginners_ once more. Lindir had to bite his lip to restrain himself. 'What is your...' A sudden bout of inspiration struck the white-haired elf, and he nonchalantly threw a Sindarin word in. 'Eneth?' (3) 

It took RPD a good few minutes to flip to "E" (because his Tengwar was horrible and he kept going backwards), and by that time, Glorfindel had managed to relocate himself by his friend's side, bracing himself on the rail at Lindir's left while Erestor stood by his free side. Elrond stood behind his seneschal, taking in the scene with a raised eyebrow. When RPD finally looked up, waving his phrase book around violently with that painfully self-satisfied look on his face, Erestor had already written a script down and passed it to Lindir. 

RPD seemed oblivious to the fact that some of the most powerful (and irritated) elves for a good few miles around were staring down at him from a balcony. He was also completely unaware that his horse had begun to gnaw through his saddlebag, searching for the sugar cubes it knew that were hidden there. RPD blinked once, twice, then shrugged. 

'I,' he declared pompously, causing Elrond to mutter '_definitely one of Thranduil's'_, 'am Random Plot Device.' 

The elves on the balcony blinked once, twice, then shrugged. 

'Are you _sure_, Random Plot Device?' Erestor asked with the practised decorum of an elf who had dealt with thousands of years worth of idiots and had decided that he could spare that little bit for one more. Elrond and Glorfindel were the only two who could tell that the advisor was laughing quietly. RPD pulled out a sheet of printed paper and run his finger down the list. 

'Age... Hair colour... Eye colour... Weight... Breast si-- Wait, it says here "not applicable"... Regulation tunic size... Ah, here we go, "name".' 

Glorfindel pulled the corners of his errant lips back down in a desperate attempt not to snort. Erestor, with the soft tone of voice that Elrond had learnt to fear, peered a little lower down and stretched out a delicate hand towards RPD. 'May I see that?' he inquired with all the sincerity of a hangman questioning the identity of his already-fitted victim. Erestor tightened the noose just that _little_ bit more by smiling. 

RPD looked a little bewildered, blinking once, twice, but since his simple operating system was not preformatted to contend with the sheer scariness of one sadistic Erestor, he consented and attempted to hand the printout upwards to the advisor, who discreetly retracted his hand just that _little_ bit, causing RPD to fall short. 

'Oh dear,' Erestor muttered without the least hint of regret, 'How inconvenient. Perhaps if you braced yourself on your horse...? I would come down myself, but I _am_ in a state. I believe I left my flower garland in my room, and I couldn't _possibly_ allow Lord Elrond to see that, now could I?' He sent RPD a sickeningly sweet smile that would have sent any other sane creature running for the nearest twenty foot deep hole. RPD nodded his head seriously. 

'I understand. Lord Thranduil himself cannot abide appearing without the appropriate flower crown.' 

From behind Erestor, Elrond rolled his eyes and thanked Illuvatar that he was _not_ the father of Legolas, thank Manwe. He then stepped forward, a benighted smile on his face. 

'Of course not, my lord _Evalielriel,_ as your...' There Elrond raised his eyebrows just that _little_ bit higher. '_Squire_, I could never allow that.' His dry response and fake name-calling flew complacently over RPD's rather thick head. 

'Oh, Zamboomfiel,' Erestor demurred equally as quickly, batting his eyelashes at his "squire", causing the elves on the balcony all to snigger uncontrollably. Glorfindel called upon all his years of experience in maintaining a straight face to prevent himself from laughing. Next to him, he felt Lindir's grip on the railing tighten almost imperceptibly. RPD, utterly lost and taken in, moved towards his horse, which feigned ignorance, and mounted it. 

'My lords Evalielriel and Zamboomfiel,' he called, 'It is good to have met you under stars such as these!' 

Erestor and Elrond turned to look at each other, then simultaneously looked upwards at the very sunny sky. As one, they faced RPD. The Original Character Elf coloured dramatically. 

'I mean,' he stuttered, desperately looking for a way out of his self-imposed dilemma. Suddenly striking upon inspiration, he flung his arm outwards to Glorfindel and Lindir in a wild gesticulation. 'And you are...?' he digressed with about as much subtlety as... as... 

The narrative sighed and decided that RPD was simply beyond comparison, so it just gave up and let the Plot flow on. 

Anyhow, RPD hollered towards Glorfindel and Lindir, swaying perilously in his saddle and waving his arms (his right hand of which still clutched his Character Printout) about to keep his balance. 

'I am,' Glorfindel considered, 'I am --' 

'Legolas,' Lindir cut in smoothly. 'Don't you recognize your own prince?' 

'Oh my Legolas,' RPD exclaimed, almost collapsing into himself as he attempted to half-bow. 'I mean, oh my Eru! My heartfelt apologies, your highness!' 

Glorfindel glared at Lindir while simultaneously wondering precisely when "Legolas" had turned into a religious exclamation. 'It is of _no matter_,' he ground out, sending Lindir to Mandos and back with his stare. 'This _good elf _here is Caborthûl.' (4) 

'My lords,' RPD half-bowed again, causing his horse to skitter in fear. He managed, one way or another, to edge his slow, painful way to the balcony, and thrust his printout very enthusiastically into Erestor's face. The advisor accepted the printout between his index finger and thumb, smiling dangerously at the ridiculous excuse for a character below him. He centred the sheet between the four elves, and as one they read through it. 

_Karacter: Random Plot Device___

_Age: 4872_   
_Hair colour: Beutiful, sunne, yellow-blond with red hi-lights._   
_Eye colour: Marvolos see-green._   
_Weight: As light as a fairther._   
_Breast Size: Not applecable._   
_Name: Random Plot Device_   
_Height: As tall as the farest of them all._

Erestor and the other three elves stopped reading at the same time, the sheer disorganized mess and terrible spelling enough to cause their heads to spin. 

'Very... detailed, this,' the advisor mumbled, causing RPD's face to light up in happiness like a incandescent light bulb, with flickering tungsten filaments reflecting the multitude of red highlights in his shining, beautiful, yellow-blond hair. Glorfindel almost retched. Erestor shut his eyes and quickly shoved the sheet back at Random Plot Device. 'Very good, very good, yes, yes,' he muttered, trying to remove the badly spelled words that had etched themselves painfully onto his retina. The mustard yellow tunic that Random Plot Device wore fluttered nauseatingly. 

'Does that mean I can go see Lord Elrond?' 

_That was a sudden shift in sentence structure and vocabulary,_ Erestor could not help thinking. Blinking rapidly to prevent himself from doing stupid things, the advisor shoved his shaking hands into the sleeves of his robes and nodded. 

'Of course. Now, listen closely to my directions.' 

RPD nodded enthusiastically once more, almost bouncing up and down on his poor forgotten horse. Erestor smiled sickly again. 

'Lord Elrond's office is cunningly disguised with the deepest of our magics,' Erestor began severely. 

'It is very hard to find it,' Glorfindel added. 

'Very,' Elrond himself said. 

'Very difficult,' Lindir finished. 

RPD nodded, and Erestor continued. 

'You absolutely _cannot_ open your eyes from the beginning of this exercise, do you understand? If you do, the magic will be _lost_, and you will find yourself hopelessly lost.' 

'And there will be no hot baths,' Glorfindel added. 

'Or shampoo,' Elrond said. 

'Or _soap_,' Lindir concluded. 

RPD paled considerably and nodded furiously. Erestor shut his eyes as if composing himself. 

'You go to that tree there at the beginning of the path, walk three hundred steps forward, four hundred to your right, twenty to your left, then walk ten steps backwards before going fifty-five and a half to your right. After you make contact with a wall, walk four steps backwards, then run forward until you feel yourself becoming weightless.' 

'Weightless?' RPD breathed, eyes shining with wonder. 

'Weightless,' the four elves chorused. 

'I will go immediately.' 

'Luck be with you,' they said together. 

RPD charged off, almost forgetting to dismount. 

Lindir counted quietly to ten after RPD had disappeared, then burst out into laughter. 

'Erestor,' Glorfindel gasped quietly, 'Or should I say_ Evalielriel,_ that was so terribly cruel.' 

'The Bruinen,' Elrond managed between mouthfuls of air. 'You sent him to that swimming spot off the cliff?' 

Erestor nodded helplessly, trying hard to stop his shoulders from shaking. 'My... lord... _Zamboomfiel,_' he stuttered to Elrond, 'You do recall that the younger population of Rivendell had arranged to go there as an outing? Today? With Allesa, or whatever her name is?' 

'Oh, you did _not_...' Lindir swore. Erestor smiled. Glorfindel burst out into another fit of laughter. 

Somewhere, somehow, RPD felt the world drop out beneath his feet. 

'Lord Elrond!' he shouted joyfully. 'Gerin tolo an Elrond!' 

Then he contacted with water, and the world dissolved into the high-pitched screams of elven maids who began throwing rocks at the perverted voyeur. 

- 

1: People! Listen to what I have to say! (lit: People, listen word me)   
2: I have come for Elrond!   
3: Name.   
4: Frog (cabor) breath (thûl) 


	9. Random Plot Device, Part II

::Random Plot Device, Part II:: 

Disclaimer: Not mine. 

A/N: AHHHHHH! A thousand million apologies to all my reviewers, but life just kicked me in the gut the past few months. Well, I'm back! 

- 

They had fished out the Random Plot Device, and stuck him in one of the smaller sitting rooms. The poor (if our main characters had been one for pity in the first place) character was wrapped in a blanket, shivering. There were wide red marks where he had been hit by pebbles, stones, and in one severe case of pissed off elf-maiden(s), a boulder. Erestor was sitting delicately on the other side of the coffee table, wondering why Eru had named it "coffee table" when they barely drank coffee anyway. 

'So,' Erestor said slowly, black eyes glittering. 'What are you?' 

'I am Random Plot Device,' RPD said, not sure what else Erestor wanted from him. His big, multi-coloured eyes blinked slowly. 

'Well,' Erestor said again, even slower, 'what purpose do you serve?' 

'I am a Random Plot Device,' RPD said again, slowly in case Erestor was missing the point. 'I am Random and part of the Plot.' 

'Even so,' Erestor hinted, painfully, 'what about the "device" part of your name?' The chief councillor of Elrond's household made vague motions in the air with his hands. Perhaps the RPD was more of a visual person than an intellectual one. 

'Device...' RPD pondered, 'Device, device, device. It reminds me of something...' 

'Yes,' Erestor encouraged, feeling ridiculous. He was a _councillor _(dictionary definition: a member of a council), not a Eru forsaken _counsellor_ (dictionary definition: some one who gives advice about problems, usually has problems himself). 'Maybe... news...?' 

'No,' RPD said. 'Close, though.' 

'Random orc attacks?' 

'What are orcs?' 

Erestor suppressed the urge to blink in confusion. 'Fine,' the councillor said, 'let's try again. Message?' 

'Getting warmer,' RPD said, brow furrowed deeply with the sheer force of will necessary to _think_. 

'Warning?' 

'Colder.' 

'Letter?' 

RPD shot up. 'The letter from Lord Thranduil!' By some force or another, he fished out his saddle bag. Erestor dimly wondered how many dimensions it had broken en route from the stables to the room. RPD took a long moment to (once again) throw out a number of objects, some things of which Erestor considered rather terrifying (like the lubricant. Who on _Middle Earth_ used lubricant?). At last, he removed a letter, dog-eared at the edges but, none the less, still intact. Somewhat. 

'Ta-da!' RPD declared, then stopped. He flushed. 'I mean, er, here the letter is!' 

Erestor resisted the urge to do something vicious (like allowing himself to bash his head against the table, or, even better, bash _RDP's_ head against the table) and snatched the letter away, making as little contact as possible. 'Thank you,' he said tightly, and exited. 

RPD was very confused, but that was okay, because he was in Rivendell (can you imagine that! _Rivendell!_) and wrapped in an Elven blanket (a _blanket, I tell you!_) and all was right with the world. Sort of. 

- 

'Erugh,' Erestor said as he exited the room, shuddering to himself. 'I feel as though my character were just put through the Halls of Mandos.' He turned a corner to see Glorfindel lounging against the wall with a smirk on his face. 

'It's a nice place, really,' the golden haired elf said. 'They provide you biscuits.' 

'Biscuits?' Erestor said incredulously, not stopping his pace. Glorfindel fell into step beside him. 

'Yes, biscuits. We all thought it was very odd, coming in from a burning hell-hole and arriving to see a waiting room with a platter of biscuits on a table.' 

'Your mind was definitely scrambled on the way back, Glorfindel,' Erestor muttered. 

'Look now,' Glorfindel said defensively. 'They were good biscuits.' 

'I am not having this discussion with you, _Legolas_,' Erestor shot. 

'That was a dishonourably low blow, Erestor.' 

'Thank you.' 

They came to Elrond's door. 'Oh my Legolas,' Erestor said in a falsetto as Glorfindel held the door open for him. 'I am so honoured!' 

Glorfindel just glowered, and they entered. Elrond was there nursing a massive headache. 'What is it now?' 

Glorfindel sat on one of the chairs in front of Elrond's desk, scowling. Erestor presented his lord with the letter. 'It came from RPD,' he stated. Elrond tentatively withdrew his letter opener, and slit the seal. His two closest friends leaned over his shoulder to read it. 

- 

_Lord Elrond,_

_In case the faulty object of nature we call the "Random Plot Device" fails to remember who I am, I am Thranduil Oropherion, Lord of Mirkwood, Father of Legolas, etc, etc. I write because I can no longer abide the state of things in my land._

'What?' Glorfindel muttered under his breath. 'The mass of orcs, or the lack of fresh daisies?' 

_In the time that the "Movie" has been released, the situation here has escalated to dire heights. In the past, Mirkwood was a relatively peaceful place._

'Yes,' Erestor said pleasantly, 'if you considered orc slayings on both flanks "peaceful".' 

_When the breed of creatures called "Mary Sues" entered, everything changed. Mirkwood, prior to their introduction to Middle Earth, had previously had a slight infestation problem._

'_Slight_, indeed. Fic-Thranduil obviously has the ability to _under_-exaggerate along with his natural tendency to _over_-exaggerate.' 

_Now, we need to breed orcs because the Mary Sues will not leave until they single-handedly decimate about twenty. My warriors are in despair, my kingdom in chaos._

'Sounds like the usual,' Elrond said happily. 'It is good to share the suffering.' 

_I know that Legolas is there with you, and I try now desperately to break out of this damned character the Author has written for me and implore for you to keep him there, for all our sanity' sakes. But now I must return to the process of my intention: the Mary Sues themselves._

_They seem to stem from you, Elrond._

'What?' exclaimed all three elves. 

_Allow me to list them down here, seeing as that I have had the pleasure of meeting each one of them individually you might as well have a share of the joy._

_Donseregiel Celebrodien, evidently daughter of your long-lost brother twice removed on Elwing's side of the family. She has especially bright purple hair, but according to my sources that has recently changed._

_Iyemridiku Los, evidently your long-lost daughter, who was tragically dropped down a waterfall. How careless of you._

_PleaselovemeLegolas, evidently insane, but also evidently your long-lost sister. Your family seems to have managed to lose many members in its time._

_There are about fifteen more, and my fingers tire of having to write all their long, inane names out. Please send a representative to gather them as soon as possible._

_You have my thanks,_

_Thranduil Oropherion, Lord of Mirkwood, Father of Legolas, etc, etc._

Elrond put down the letter carefully. 'I see,' he said pleasantly, causing both Erestor and Glorfindel to back away. The last time Elrond had used that tone with them, nine people journeyed across Middle Earth to go dump a little band of gold into a volcano. 'Erestor,' he said, 'bring me my quill.' 

- 

Letter #2, to Thranduil from Elrond 

_Thranduil,_

_I would appreciate it if you kept those Mary Sues, seeing as that your kingdom would be awfully dull without them. In any case, none of them are related to me, unless by some chance of fate my mother managed to escape the strands of her rather avian fate in order to reproduce. Before you injure your mind on that sentence, allow _me_ to list _your_ relatives currently residing in Rivendell:_

_Legolaslovesme1!1, your daughter. She evidently does not realize that marrying Legolas would be a case of rather severe incest, and I am _loth_ to break her heart._

_Calenfienwen the Third, your niece. She has given Elladan no small amount of trauma, much of which stems from her mistaking him as Elrohir._

_Calenfienwen the Second, your second niece. She has done almost exactly the same as her sister, except that now it is Elrohir she has scarred for life._

_Calenfienwen the Zero, your long-lost niece. She is doing an unfortunate job of stalking me, and sad to say she is in the infirmary from having accidentally fallen into the bear pit I keep outside my window. Unfortunate, is it not?_

_There are about thirty more, and my fingers tire of having to write all their long, inane names, all of which no doubt stem from your side of the family. Please send five representatives to gather them as soon as possible._

_You have my thanks,_

_Elrond Earendillion, Lord of Rivendell, Holder of one of the Three Elven Rings, father to Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen only__brother to Elros, Son of Elwing, etc, etc, etc._

- 

Letter #3, to Elrond from Thranduil 

_Elrond,_

_Your family has obvious problems. Now I have a half-breed, evidently part-Hobbit, part-Elf and part-human (though how that is possible, I know not) claiming that she is the daughter of one of your twins. I am appalled, Elrond, that you did not send me a wedding invite._

_Thranduil._

- 

Letter #4, to Thranduil from Elrond 

_Thranduil,_

_If you think that that is traumatizing, I currently have one in my keeping who claims to be a daughter both yours and mine._

_Elrond._

- 

Letter #5, to Elrond from Thranduil 

_Elrond,_

_Gah._

_Thranduil._


End file.
